


Tell Me Something Good

by desertredwolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Neville Longbottom, Battle of Hogwarts, Canon Compliant, Dementors, F/M, Herbology, Patronus, Unicorns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desertredwolf/pseuds/desertredwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the Battle of Hogwarts and Neville finds himself face-to-face with a hundred dementors. And let's be honest: We all know who comes out on top. Expecto Patronum! Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbot</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me Something Good

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights go to respective owners.

Green light arched through the air and Neville Longbottom dove behind a pillar. Stone shattered and dust quickly filled his lungs. Coughing, he rolled to the side and sprung up.

_“Bombarda Maxima!”_ he shouted.

The spell hit the Death Eater squarely in the chest. The Death Eater, and a ten-foot radius around him, exploded in the night. Breathing heavily, Neville grimly took in the scene, before continuing to run towards the Great Hall. He had to regroup and check up on the D.A. members. They were counting on him. They had to be okay. She had to be alive. But while Neville refused to look, he knew there were students and Aurors laying far to still on the ground around him. If she had died …

_Stop thinking like that! She’s okay. She’s okay. She has to be okay. Oh Merlin, please let her be okay,_ Neville thought, as he automatically dodged Dark spells and raced around corners.

Neville threw himself around a corner, avoiding a nasty orange hex that had been cast in his direction, and found himself in a small deserted courtyard. He cautiously slowed down to a walk, on high alert for any enemies. But before he took more than ten steps, the night suddenly grew darker and the air became frigid.

“Oh, shit,” he whispered.

Fear and despair welled up inside him; he knew what was happening. Harry had taught the D.A. for weeks on how to cast the only defensive charm capable of defeating them. And Neville remembered his third year. Turning around, Neville found himself face-to-face with a hundred approaching dementors.

And there was no one here to save him.

Gripping his wand tightly, he raised it up before him. “Not today,” he growled. “And not like this.”

Despite never having cast a corporeal patronus, Neville stood his ground and thought of the happiest memory he had: Earning the final House Points that secured a Gryffindor win in his first year. He let the memory fill him up, like Harry had taught, and confidently spoke the defensive charm.

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

White mist shot out of his wand and solidified in front of him like a shield. Neville was surprised; this was more than he could do during a normal D.A. session. The dementors pressed in closer and began draining the shield. It held a few moments longer, before it flickered under the strain. Neville suddenly grew colder and more desperate; the memory faltered and the mist dissipated completely.

_Come on … happy memories … happy …_ He tried to regain control, but darkness descended and he was thrown into his worst memories. He remembered every Potions class; his first flying lesson; Hermione petrifying him first year …

_“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”_

Malfoy tormenting him over the littlest of things; his grandmother looking disappointed whenever he chatted about Herbology; his mother handing him candy wrappers, every visit without fail, and always staring through him — never recognizing him …

_“Expecto … Patronum.”_

His last attempt at the spell was half-hearted and, as he was consumed with his worst memories, he fell to his knees. He loosely held his wand at his side and the dementors pressed in closer. Despair and regret filled his thoughts. He was going to die … no, this was worse than death. And no one would have expected anything more. They would probably shake their heads and whisper among themselves, saying that he couldn’t even die properly. He would let them down. He would let her down.

_I’m sorry, Hannah,_ he thought, _I’m sorry I never told you. I’m sorry I wasn’t braver._

And with that thought, a memory hit him like lightening.

_Autumn leaves littered the ground, as Neville raced to the greenhouses. Professor Sprout had granted him permission to use Greenhouse Six today, and he couldn’t wait. He, Neville Longbottom, a fourth year student, had permission to be in Greenhouse Six! Grinning as he reached the greenhouses, he flung open the door and took off his coat and scarf. Bustling around, he gathered the tools he would need. As he was slipping on his dragon-hide gloves, a small cough interrupted his actions._

_Neville turned around, expecting to find Professor Sprout, but was instead greeted by Hannah Abbot, a Hufflepuff in his year._

_“Hello, Neville,” Hannah smiled shyly._

_“He-hello, Hannah,” Neville stuttered. “Um, what are you doing here?”_

_Hannah shrugged. “Just working on a project. Professor Sprout let me come in here to grab some supplies. What are you doing?” she asked._

_Neville smiled and excitedly began to explain. “Working on a project. Want to see?”_

_“Sure!”_

_“Ok, so you know the Witchflower? It’s also called The Tear of Avalon?” Hannah nodded. “So, you know how you have to start growing Witchflower in the spring and use one-part dragon fertilizer and three parts mooncalf dung to get it to grow right?” he continued to question Hannah, while they walked to the back of the greenhouse._

_“Yeah,” Hannah replied, “It’s one of the rarer and more finicky plants to care for. It also needs rain once per day until it’s fully matured.”_

_“And the precise temperature of 36.1 degrees Celsius.”_

_“Which is why it’s never been successfully grown from seed to mature plant in a greenhouse, right?” Hannah finished. “Because even if you maintain the temperature, it somehow knows if it’s the wrong season and it needs real rain — not magicked water or groundwater.”_  
  
“So the easiest way is to find it in the wild. That’s how Sprout got her Witchflower,” Neville brushed dirt of a worktable and set up his tools. “But what if you could trick the plant?”  
  
“Um, what?” Hannah raised an eyebrow. “Is that even possible?”  
  
“It is now,” Neville said. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a glass container that was slightly smaller than a quaffle and proudly set it on the table. Hannah moved forward to see what was inside. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she grabbed Neville’s arm. His heart skipped a beat for a moment.

_“Is that?” she whispered._

_“It’s a Witchflower seedling,” Neville gazed at the plant proudly._

_Inside the glass container was a layer of dirt and fertilizer, and in the center was a tiny Witchflower. It bobbed back and forth and seemed to radiate a golden light._

_“See, I used material that had been picked and processed in the springtime. That includes the rain water and glass. Plant the seed, spray the rainwater, and then seal the container. Professor Flitwick charmed the glass to maintain the correct temperature. That’s the only magic used. The water cycles through on its own. It’s a Witchflower seedling in the perfect environment, which happens to be a portable greenhouse,” Neville explained._

_Hannah continued to stare at it in awe. “Neville,” she slowly said, “you do realize you just made history, right?”_

_Suddenly embarrassed, Neville looked at his feet and awkwardly kicked the dirt. “N-no, not really,” he mumbled, “I still have to make observations, and make sure it survives, an-and transfer it when it out grows the contain-tainer…” He trailed off and looked out the window._

_“Neville.” Soft hands gently held his own and Neville turned back. Hannah’s blue eyes shone and, for the first time, Neville realized she was beautiful._

Where did _that_ come from? _he thought._

_"Neville, what you’ve done is amazing. I’ve seen you work in class before and you are ahead of the rest of us. You’re very talented — no, don’t shake your head. It’s true. Don’t let circumstance or people’s opinion control your happiness. Be you, Neville,” Hannah ducked her head and shyly continued, “because you’re a great wizard.”_

_They stood in silence for a minute, before Neville cleared his throat. “Do you, um, want to help me with observations?” he asked._

_“Sure,” she said softly._

_They sat there together for hours, laughing and talking, and Neville would find himself glancing in Hannah’s direction every so often. She would glance at him and grin, and for the second time that day, Neville thought she was stunning. Because here, in this moment, he thought — no,_ knew _she was more beautiful than the rarest of flowers._

**_“Expecto Patronum!”_ **

Neville and the dementor froze and time seemed to slow to a stop. Neville blinked and wondered when he had stood back up. The dementor was too close to Neville, its skeletal hand inches from his body. Before Neville could process anything else, time sped back up and a ball of white light flew out of his wand, colliding with the monster. The dementor was violently pushed back and the light took a corporeal form.

Standing in between Neville and a hundred dementors was a bright white unicorn.

The unicorn radiated a pure light and it appeared to shimmer, as if it contained sparkling starlight. The patronus lowered its head and stomped the ground with a front hoof, which Neville knew instinctively was an act of defiance and a way of saying, “Go on. Just try.”

A brave, or foolish, dementor inched forward and the unicorn shook its mane and reared. Blinding white light pulsed out of the unicorn in waves, causing the dementor to flee. The patronus then lowered its head and charged at the rest of the dementors, bathing the area in light as it ran. The dementors desperately wanted to get Neville — to _feed_ off him, but the unicorn wouldn’t allow them to get close.

It was over all too soon and the last dementor disappeared into the darkness. The night air warmed and some of the shadows lifted. The patronus did one last circle around the perimeter, before trotting over and standing in front of Neville.

Neville stood in awe of the unicorn. He couldn’t believe that he had cast a corporeal patronus, let alone that _his_ patronus was a unicorn. Unicorns were famous for being powerful and good, while also being courageous and protective. They were a force to be reckoned with. Deep down, Neville knew that described him perfectly.

He reached out his hand toward the unicorn, before remembering he couldn’t actually touch it and pulled back. He had seen Harry and other students cast the Patronus Charm in D.A. meetings, but he had never seen a patronus this beautiful; it was absolutely divine.

“Please,” Neville whispered, “can you stay with me?”

The unicorn took a step closer and rested its muzzle over Neville’s heart. He held his breathe as it looked meaningfully into his eyes. Slowly, it faded out of existence, momentarily leaving Neville covered in starlight. Exhaling, he looked around the battlefield and noticed the fighting had stopped. The Death Eaters and Dark creatures must have retreated because Neville was alone. Suddenly, remembering his original mission, he took off toward the Great Hall.

Minutes later, he burst through the doors of the Great Hall and the sight of the dead and injured hit him like a Bludgeoning Hex. Families and friends were crying over lost loved ones, while the injured were being tended to by the professors.

“Hannah?” Neville called out, a knot tightening in his throat, “Hannah!” Walking towards that injured (he refused to check the dead yet), he continued to shout her name, panic rising with each step.

“Hannah! _Hannah!_ ”

“Neville?!”  
  
Neville spun around and saw Hannah limping into the Great Hall. Pure relief washed over him.

“Hannah!” Neville shouted. He ran up to her and pulled her into a hug. “You’re alive!”

Sniffling, Hannah nodded into his shoulder. “Where have you been?” she murmured.  
  
Stepping back, Neville gave her a grin. “I’ve been around. You know, fighting dementors and Death Eaters.” Taking in Hannah’s appearance the first time, he noticed that she had a nasty cut on her face and she was favoring her left leg. “But more importantly, what happened to you? Are you okay?”

Hannah grimaced. “I think so,” she said, gesturing vaguely at her face. “The cut is from falling debris and I think I got grazed by … I don’t know what spell really. My leg got grazed by something and it hurts.”  
  
“What?” Neville panicked. “Can you walk? Are you okay?! You should sit down! I’ll see if I can find Madam Pomfrey.”  
  
“What?! No! I’m fine! See— Ow!” Hannah flinched as she tried to put weight on her leg. “Ok. Not so fine. Is there a place we could sit down? Just … let Madam Pomfrey tend to the others first. I’m not that bad off.”

“Fine,” Neville said, “But you’re not walking.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Neville gave Hannah a grin and said, “I’m going to carry you.”  
  
Hannah protested and tried backing up. “Neville, that’s not necessary— Neville! Put me down now! I’m fine!” Hannah swatted his chest and gave a dramatic sigh.

“You’re such a Gryffindor,” she muttered.  
  
Chuckling, Neville carried her over to a cot in the corner of the room and gently put her down. She leaned back and closed her eyes, as she tried to find a comfortable way to sit. Finally settling in and sitting still, she looked over at him.

“How can you laugh?” Her voice was soft and not accusatory.

Neville lost his smile and grew serious. “I just fought dementors before getting to the Great Hall,” he said.  
  
Hannah frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a reason to laugh, though,” she murmured.

“No, but I cast a patronus for the first time,” Neville continued, “a real, corporeal patronus. And I think the euphoria is a side effect of the Patronus Charm.” ( _And learning that the woman you love is alive,_ he silently added.) “Since it needs good memories, your happiest memories, to be powerful, it’s bound to affect you.”  
  
The pair grew silent as surviving D.A. members and Hogwarts staff began to carry in the dead and injured. Neville could barely watch as someone placed a too small body amongst the dead. Destruction surrounded them and Neville struggled to hold onto the good memories that powered his patronus.

Hannah slowly reached out and held Neville’s hand, tears began to streak her face. “Where do we go from here?” she appeared lost in her thoughts. “Neville … tell me something good. Please.”

_Here’s your chance, Neville. Do it!_ he thought. _Tell her!_

Neville looked over at her and gently squeezed her hand. “We matter,” he said, his voice filled with confidence. ( _Coward,_ he thought.) “We matter. And no matter what, none of us are alone.”  
  
“So we die together?” Hannah asked bitterly.

“No. We _live_ together. Life finds a way,” Neville gave a small smile as he remembered the little seedling. “ _We_ have something to live for; something worth fighting for.”

Hannah looked at Neville, a small spark of hope flickered in her eyes. “What’s that?”

_Love._

“Tomorrow.”

Hannah looked incredulous. “Tomorrow?” she repeated.

_Yeah, “tomorrow”?_ he thought sarcastically.

Neville slowly nodded. “Tomorrow: Where kids won’t be afraid because they’re parents are Muggles. Where pureblood parents don’t abuse their children to test if they’re a Squib or not. Where races like goblins and centaurs and house elves aren’t discriminated against or mistreated. A tomorrow where we don’t forget what we fought for and begin to let things slide.”  
  
Hannah leaned up against Neville’s shoulder. “Tomorrow,” she said, “sounds like something good.”

_You need to tell her, Neville! Tell her now!_ he thought.

Neville took a deep breath and began to speak, “Hannah … tonight you … you saved—” _SSSCCCCREEECCCHHHHHH!_

Neville cried out in shock and put his hands over his ears. The piercing sound echoed for a moment, only to then be replaced with a loud voice. Despite covering his ears, Neville could still hear the voice address him. It echoed in his head and felt like poison and ice. Neville looked at Hannah and saw that she was in the same predicament; nothing could block out the voice. They couldn’t do anything, but listen to Lord Voldemort speak.

**_“You have fought valiantly, but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat …”_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts
> 
> The Fairy Tale Challenge — Diagon Alley II  
> Fairy Tale Prompt: The Frog Prince - Write about Transfiguration gone wrong between romantic partners. Alternatively, write about Neville Longbottom.  
> Word Prompt: Divine
> 
> Bingo! — Diagon Alley II  
> Prompt: Unicorns


End file.
